Would She Have Loved This Time?

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I wonder if my mum would’ve liked this day,

Surrounded by pens in a bright array.

She loved her stationery, more than I do

Diaries, journals, a planner or two.

I sit here writing on Tuesday morn,

With colourful pens, slightly worn.

And think of her, in a softer light

Would she have loved this modern delight?

The shops now gleam with options galore,

More than she ever saw before.

Back then, it was a humble scene:

A blue pen, a pencil, an eraser clean.

Maybe a ruler, if you were cool,

No glitter pens or pastel for school.

Today, it’s all about looking right,

Aesthetic dreams in pink and white.

A pretty notebook can change your fate—

Proof you’re ever so destined to be great.

‘Cause if it looks like you’ve got control,

No one can see the ragged soul.

It pops up in toys, in fashion and style,

In home design that makes you smile.

Nice aesthetics… Oh, what a disguise

To hide the ache behind the eyes.

Would she have liked this age so sleek?

With Pinterest goals and colour schemes chic?

She did, I guess—in her final days,

She bought a room full in a daze.

After she’d lost all she had to lose,

She chose her pens, her paper, her hues.

A month before she left astray,

She found some order; albeit in her own lost way.

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